Aftershock
by Nessa Luinwe
Summary: Lowell and Syrenne have both been through a lot, but can they heal their scars and make a new future for themselves? Major end of game spoilers. Syrenne/Lowell, Zael/Calista and possibly a little Yurick/Mirania too.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Welcome to my first Syrenne/Lowell fic! I can't begin to explain how much I love this pairing and writing for them; I have so many ideas for them and I really hope I manage to get them all written up as fics at some point. This one is set just after the gang escape from The Last World and just before the epilogue; I'm thinking that at least a few days passed between beating Zangurak and sending the outsider home, so this fic will be concentrating on what happens with Syrenne and Lowell in those few days, and beyond that as well. **

**So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy! **

_**Lowell**_

The atmosphere was so very strange that evening. Ariela's Tavern, usually filled with noise and laughter and happiness, was quiet and subdued; more so than it had ever been before. They were all there to celebrate, and yet it felt like they should be mourning. On the one hand, they had defeated Zangurak, restored peace to the world and stopped the land's decay. Lowell was alive, and Zael and Calista were able to look forward to a bright, prosperous new future. But all of this had come at a cost; one which the mercenaries felt keenly. They had lost Dagran; their mentor, their leader and their friend. Not only had they lost him, but they were the ones who had had to fight him. They were the ones who had had to defeat him and kill him. Zael, especially, was struggling to deal with the fact that the death of the man he'd once considered to be a brother was the price he'd had to pay for his and his friends' happiness.

Lowell sat at a table by the door, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. Whilst the others had gone on ahead to fight Zangurak and then face Dagran, Lowell had, for all intents and purposes, been lying dead after taking a sword to the chest that had been meant for Syrenne. If it hadn't been for the fact that Dagran's spirit had revived him, he wouldn't even be here now. Consequently, he hadn't been there to see what had become of the man he'd once looked up to. He hadn't been there to feel the sting of betrayal and pain that the others had all experienced. And so he was at a loss when it came to what exactly he was supposed to be feeling. Should he be angry at the man who was the sole reason he was alive now? Or should he mourn instead for a man who had thrown away the bonds of friendship and had used them all as pawns in his lust for power? None of it made any sense. Lowell supposed that the others felt the same way, but it was still different for them. He figured that if he'd been there with them and seen everything happen, he might have had an idea of how he truly felt, but because he hadn't actually _been_ there, all he felt was numbness and confusion. He couldn't get any closure.

He cast a glance around the tavern at the others. Mirania stood talking quietly with Ariela, trying to explain everything that had happened whilst mindful of the fact that young Warren was sitting beside her on a bar stool, listening eagerly for the tales of brave, strong mercenaries that he so adored. Yurick leaned against the wall not too far away with a sombre expression on his face as he, too, listened to the conversation.

Zael and Calista were a little apart from the gathering of people in the centre of the tavern, standing in the far corner and talking in low voices. They were gripping each other's hands tightly and only looking into each other's eyes. Poor Zael looked so torn apart, and Calista would be trying to console him, Lowell knew, though there was nothing she could say that would ease his pain.

He finally picked out Syrenne, stood near the stairs with her arms crossed, one hand clutching a tankard of ale that she sipped from repeatedly. She wasn't looking at anyone or anything in particular, seemingly lost in thought as she stared ahead.

_If I could go back in time, I still would have done it,_ Lowell thought to himself as he watched her. He'd have taken a hundred swords to the chest if that was what it would have taken to save her, even if it still meant not being there with the others when they fought Dagran.

They still hadn't really spoken about it or acknowledged it. There hadn't been time. There were those few moments just after he'd been revived, when she'd fallen into his arms, sobbing with relief, and he'd held her tightly and told her not to cry. But then they'd all been running and fighting for their lives, and when everything had finally come to an end and they were safe, they had come here to celebrate their freedom. Syrenne hadn't spoken to him, or even looked at him, since; though she'd treated everyone the same way. He knew she was trying not to let them see what she was feeling; she hated the thought of anyone pitying her.

Suddenly she glanced in his direction and they met each other's gaze briefly. No emotion showed on her face, but when Lowell slowly got to his feet with the intention of walking over to her, she immediately slammed her tankard down on the nearest table and went upstairs, taking two steps at a time. Mirania turned her head at the sudden movement, and Lowell gave her a shrug and a weak smile. She gave him a sympathetic look in return before turning back to Ariela and Warren, and Lowell sighed before following Syrenne upstairs.

She was stood just inside the room she shared with Mirania, her back to the open door. Lowell hovered on the landing for a moment before hesitantly stepping inside; she must have heard him enter, but she didn't turn around. Clearing his throat, he spoke somewhat cautiously. "Syrenne?"

For a moment there was no reply, and then she turned to face him; angry green eyes glaring at him. He loved her eyes and always had done; they seemed to change with her mood, and looking into them was like peeking at her soul. But he rather preferred them when they were calm, and not looking as though she were trying to fry him to a crisp on the spot. What was it he'd done wrong, anyway? Why on earth could she have reason to be angry with him? The world was saved, he was alive and everything was how it should be. So shouldn't she be happier?

"Why did you do it?" she demanded of him suddenly, her voice sharp and harsh. "Why, Lowell?"

He took another careful step towards her, trying to avoid meeting her brilliant emerald stare. "Any chance you'd care to elaborate?" he asked her lightly. "Why did I do what, in particular?"

The glare intensified. "You know what I mean," Syrenne snapped. "Answer the question."

Lowell sighed, risking a look at her face. She was beautiful, even when she was angry. "Well... if you're referring to what I think you're referring to... I wouldn't have thought there'd be any need to ask the question in the first place," he murmured. "I did what was necessary."

"I'm not some bloody damsel in distress, Lowell," Syrenne shot back at him, narrowing her eyes and folding her arms. "I don't need saving, or protecting. I can take care of myself."

"Might I remind you that that sword was heading straight for you?" Lowell countered. "There was no time for you to 'take care of yourself'. You couldn't have dodged it, or blocked it; it was going to hit you. What was I supposed to do; watch you die?"

He'd said the wrong thing. He knew it the second the words left his lips.

"You mean like I had to watch _you_ die?!" Syrenne cried, and Lowell saw her shaking with the effort of keeping the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes from spilling over. _She's going to cry again,_ he thought distantly to himself.

Lowell could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Syrenne cry in the time that he'd known her. Three, in total. The first time was when he'd come round after being knocked unconscious by the Gurak, and she'd literally thrown herself into his arms, sobbing like a baby, when she realised he would be all right. The second time was when he'd died for real, and the third was when he'd been revived. Only three times, and they were all related to him. He wondered what exactly that meant, and where it left them. Did she really feel that strongly for him? And, for that matter, what was it he felt for her? Love? Perhaps, he mused. He'd thought about it quite a lot recently, but he'd tried to push those same thoughts out of his mind almost as soon as they occurred. Love was dangerous territory for him, and it was best to ignore the idea altogether. But this was Syrenne... he might be reluctant to call his feelings for her 'love', but really, what else could he call it? He'd died for her, after all, and would do it again if he had to. If it wasn't love, what was it?

He was pulled from his thoughts by a stifled sob, and he looked back at Syrenne. She'd turned away again, most likely to hide the fact that she was crying from him. If this was any other time, he'd most likely have teased her about it, but the only thing he wanted to do at that moment was comfort her. He took a few more slow steps towards her until he was stood behind her, and then rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, intending to turn her back towards him, but she moved to face him anyway. True enough, there were teardrops clinging to her cheeks, and Lowell felt something inside him twinge at the sight. Someone as beautiful as she was should never cry.

He raised a hand silently and brushed gently at her cheeks with his finger, wiping away the tears. She didn't make a move, letting him continue until he'd finished, her eyes looking straight into his.

"I thought you were dead," she whispered after a moment, new teardrops threatening to re-trace the path of the old ones. "I thought... I thought you'd gone, and left me behind... What was I supposed to do without you?" Her voice trembled as she spoke, and Lowell gave her a sad smile.

"You were supposed to live, you silly woman," he said, trying to stop her crying and lighten the mood. "You didn't need me to do that."

"Shut up," Syrenne said furiously, and Lowell blinked in surprise when he realised she'd grabbed him by the arms. "Don't you _dare_ joke about it. You have no idea what it did to me when your heartbeat stopped. Not the slightest idea."

Lowell stared down at her fierce, intense expression. For a moment he had no idea what to say. Slowly, his hand came up to rest against her cheek, and she didn't stop him.

Suddenly he heard footsteps, and they both turned to the door to see Mirania stood with an apologetic look on her face as she looked first at Lowell and then at Syrenne.

"I... I'm sorry to interrupt," she said hesitantly. "I just wanted to make sure everything was all right."

Syrenne pulled back from Lowell abruptly, her skin slightly flushed. She gave him a quick glance before looking back at Mirania. "Everything's fine," she muttered, and then hurried out of the room without a second glance at anyone else.

Lowell watched her go, undecided whether or not to follow her, but then he sighed in resignation and turned back to Mirania. "Well... that went smoothly."

**Author's Note: Hope you liked that! Please review if you have a moment and stick around for the next chapter if you enjoyed the first!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Sorry I've been a bit slow in posting this chapter; I've been working a lot and had to get past a bout of writer's block. But now I have a fairly clear idea of what the next few chapters will be, so I should be able to get chapter 3 up sooner. As always, thanks for reading and special thanks to everyone who reviewed; all of you were so nice and you've really inspired me to keep going with this. Enjoy!**

_**Syrenne**_

As she signalled to Ariela to get her another tankard of beer, Syrenne stared down bleary-eyed at the surface of the bar. She tried to think exactly how many beers she'd had so far, but every time she tried to count it made her head swim and she gave up. It had been her intention that evening to get absolutely hammered, to the point where her future memories of that night would be hazy at best, and so far she was doing a stellar job of it. For Syrenne, memories usually went hand-in-hand with sadness, betrayal and pain, and the memories of all that had happened that day in particular were memories she did not want to keep; therefore, she was relying on her old friend alcohol to lull her into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, from which she would wake in the morning feeling cleansed of everything; Zangurak, Dagran... Lowell...

_Him especially,_ Syrenne thought to herself with a scowl as she snatched the tankard up as soon as Ariela placed it down in front of her. "Bloody bastard," she muttered to herself before taking a long drink.

"Let me guess... Lowell?" Ariela smiled as she came to stand opposite the mercenary, and Syrenne glanced up at her.

"How did you know?" she sighed, swirling the liquid around the tankard before taking another sip.

Ariela laughed. "I doubt anyone could say something like that about Zael, or Yurick," she pointed out. "And... well... it's not the first time I've heard you call Lowell that." Syrenne's scowl deepened, and Ariela's smile faltered. "Mirania told me about... about what he did. It sounds... very romantic."

Syrenne's answering laugh was bitter as she looked up at the other woman again. "Romantic? It wasn't romantic! It was stupid. _He's _stupid." She drank again until she'd finished the entire drink in record time and set the tankard back down on the bar. "Everything's stupid," she finished petulantly, and Ariela raised an eyebrow.

"Oh dear... things are that bad between you and him, are they?" Ariela asked as she poured Syrenne another drink and set it down in front of her. "It's a shame, you know; I always thought you two would make a good couple."

Syrenne was about to reply with an indignant denial of that last remark when she heard footsteps behind her, and she turned to see Zael and Calista coming towards them.

"Calista and I are going back to the castle," Zael said quietly when they reached Syrenne and Ariela. "We wanted to say goodbye to you before we left."

Syrenne could see how tired he was as he tried to smile at the two women; his face was pale and his hand was clutching Calista's tightly, as though he didn't think he'd be able to stand if he let her go. He'd had to go through so much, and losing Dagran the way they had must be nearly tipping him over the edge, Syrenne realised. She'd always thought of Zael as a younger brother, and to see him like this upset her. _But he has Calista now,_ she reminded herself. The young Arganan heiress was strong and brave, traits which Syrenne greatly admired, and she knew Calista would be the best person to help Zael through this tough time.

"And we wanted to thank you, too," Calista added, breaking into Syrenne's thoughts. "Both of you. For... well... for everything." She too gave them a tentative smile, and Syrenne returned it, though both were tinged with a small amount of sadness.

"I'm not sure you should be thanking me, Lady Calista," Ariela said, looking apologetic. "I'm afraid I haven't been able to offer you much help at all."

"Ariela, without you and your father, and your tavern, my friends and I wouldn't have had anywhere safe to stay," Zael pointed out. "We've pretty much taken over this place since we came to Lazulis Island, and you welcomed us with a kindness that most mercenaries don't expect from others. You've given us good food, somewhere to sleep... and most of the contents of your bar," he added, smiling wearily at Syrenne, who stuck her tongue out at him in return before returning his grin. "And... well, without any of that, I doubt we would have had the strength to do everything we've done," Zael continued. "So... thank you, Ariela."

"From the bottom of our hearts," Calista nodded, smiling. "You and your father, and Warren, too, will always be welcome at the castle."

Ariela looked surprised. "I... I don't know what to say... thank you, Lady Calista. And you too, Zael. It's been a pleasure to know you. All of you. And I know my father and Warren would say the same."

Syrenne managed to get down from the bar stool she was perched on and sighed. "Get going back to the castle, both of you, before these little speeches get too mushy. I hate mushy." She fixed Zael with another grin, and he gave her another tired smile.

"Goodnight, Syrenne," he said quietly. "You'll come to the castle tomorrow with the others, won't you?"

"Yes, please do," Calista said eagerly. "You're all very welcome there, whenever you want to visit us. I'd hate for us to lose contact with any of you."

Syrenne patted Zael's arm and smiled. "Of course. Someone's gotta keep an eye on this one, haven't they? Don't want him getting into any more trouble." She paused for a moment, the smile fading from her face. It was almost as though none of them could maintain a happy mood for too long after what had happened; it felt wrong to smile, somehow, like they were betraying Dagran's memory. But then... they had a right to be happy as well, now that they were safe, didn't they? It was all so confusing... "Night Zael," she said finally. "Night, Calista."

"Goodnight Syrenne," Calista said softly, and she and Zael nodded to Ariela before turning to walk from the tavern. Syrenne watched them go, a part of her knowing that things would never be the same again.

After they had left and Ariela had gone to collect glasses from around the tavern, Syrenne turned back to the bar to pick up her tankard, but it had disappeared. She frowned. She hadn't even started to drink that last beer, had she? Ariela had only just served it to her when Zael and Calista had arrived...

"Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

The familiar accent made her groan out loud as she turned to see Lowell taking a seat at the bar, the tankard in his hands. He grinned at her and winked as he raised it to his lips and took a long drink.

"You of all people should know that if _anyone_ dares to even _touch_ my booze, they get their arse kicked from here to the mainland," Syrenne scowled, flopping onto the seat next to him.

Lowell gave her a look of mock innocence. "What, even me?"

"_Especially _you."

"I get special treatment? I feel positively honoured," Lowell laughed as he set the tankard back down on the bar and pushed it towards Syrenne. She grabbed it immediately and wrapped an arm around it protectively.

"Mine," she said pointedly, narrowing her eyes at him. Lowell threw up his hands in defeat.

"All right, all right; don't get cranky. I would have bought you another anyway, you know."

"Yeah, right. Sure you would have."

"I would have! I'm not a fan of stealing ladies' drinks, but like I say, I couldn't help myself, and... well..." He shrugged nonchalantly, and Syrenne frowned in suspicion.

"Well what?" she demanded of him, and Lowell eyed her as though considering whether he should carry on speaking or not.

"Well... you don't count." His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Syrenne leapt from her seat and thumped his arm before he could say another word, ignoring his yelp of surprise. "Say I'm not a lady one more time and I'll bash you over the head with this barstool," she snapped at him, glaring. Lowell rubbed his arm where she'd hit it, wincing, and then gave her a rakish grin.

"So you're saying you _want_ to be thought of as a lady?" he asked, and Syrenne opened her mouth to reply before closing it again abruptly, scowling as she thought about it. She was no lady, he was right; she hated all those noblewomen with their fancy ballgowns and their airs and graces. She was a mercenary; a warrior.

"No," she muttered, sitting back down in defeat. "But that still doesn't mean you can steal my booze, got it?"

"Got it," Lowell grinned, inclining his head politely. His grin was infectious, and as she looked at him Syrenne couldn't stop a smile spreading across her own face until she found herself laughing hopelessly, and Lowell laughed with her. It felt good; laughing with him like this, instead of the awkward, tense feeling that had existed between them since what had happened earlier that day. Again the thought hit her that she could have been sitting here alone this evening, drinking to Lowell's memory and trying to drown her heartache in alcohol, instead of teasing and bantering with the only man she'd ever felt this close to in her life. Not that she'd admit it to him, of course, but the very real possibility of a life without Lowell in it had shaken her to the core.

The change in her thoughts chased the smile from her face, and she turned away from him, sombre all of a sudden. For a moment, there was silence, and then Lowell spoke.

"So... what happens now?" he asked her hesitantly. Syrenne felt a wave of panic run through her; this was the question she had been dreading ever since they got back from the Last World. _What happens now..._ She made a point of not turning back to look at him; she didn't want him to see how terrified she was of having to answer his question. "We can't just pretend nothing happened, Syrenne," Lowell continued quietly. "And we can't go back to the way things were. Everything's changed now."

That made her turn. "Do you think I don't know that?" she snapped as she whirled round. "Dagran's gone. Count Arganan's dead, which means Calista's probably a Countess or something now, and Zael's going to marry her, which means they'll be staying at the castle. Yurick and Mirania will probably leave too; they've always done their own thing. Our little group of mercenaries isn't a group anymore; _everything's_ changing. And I hate it." She raised her tankard and took a long drink to calm her nerves; change was one of the few things she couldn't deal with, and not being able to deal with something was a weakness in her eyes. The one thing Syrenne hated more than anything else was letting someone see that she was weak in any way.

"You still have me," Lowell replied after a moment, watching her. His expression was solemn but sincere; an expression not normally seen on his face. Syrenne tried not to look at him.

"Yeah, until you find some other girl that takes your fancy and you act the hero for her and get yourself killed for good this time," she muttered. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his expression harden.

"You know, I'm starting to think you'd rather I hadn't _saved your life_," he said sharply, emphasising the words, and Syrenne felt a little twinge inside her, but she pushed it aside.

"I told you; I'm not a bloody damsel in distress, Lowell; if you want to be the big hero, go and find some other girl to play knights and princesses with, because I won't be playing along." She hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but she felt like she was full to the brim with too many conflicting emotions, and they had to find an outlet somehow. She tried to risk a look at him, but his face was turned away from her. _I've gone too far,_ she thought to herself anxiously. If she pushed Lowell away, she'd have no one. But letting him get too close to her was terrifying...

She heard the barstool scrape against the floor as Lowell pushed it back and got to his feet, and when he spoke she could tell she'd hurt him.

"Very well. If that's how you feel, then I'm going to bed," he said icily, and she hurriedly looked up and opened her mouth to speak but he was already storming towards the stairs.

"Lowell!" she called desperately. "Lowell, please... wait."

He stopped walking, but didn't turn around. Syrenne searched for the right thing to say; she didn't want them to end the night like this. Bickering was fine; it was what they both enjoyed. But arguing was a different matter. "I... I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I don't want to fight." She paused for a moment. "Thank you... for everything. I mean it, Lowell. Thank you."

For a moment he still didn't move, and Syrenne could feel her heart sink, but then he turned and gave her a small smile, and her spirits rose again.

"You're welcome, Syrenne," he said very softly, before nodding his head in farewell and turning to head up the stairs.

As she watched him go, Syrenne could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She'd almost lost him twice that day, and the second time had been her own fault. The thing was, she still wasn't entirely sure how to answer his question, the question that would haunt her and keep her awake that night. _What happens now?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Wow... I can only apologise sooooo much for not updating this sooner, guys. I've been super busy with work, and then I had a 2 month-long battle with writer's block that just took forever for me to get over. See, I had the first half of this chapter all written about a week after I uploaded my last chapter, and then the second half just would not work for some reason, so as a result it's been written and re-written and re-written some more. Hopefully it's all good now, though I'm still only about 90% happy. Still, I figure 90% is the best I'm going to get, so I really hope you all enjoy this extra-long chapter and I promise to try and be quicker at uploading in the future. The next chapter should be a bit more light-hearted and easy to write, so here's hoping it will be up quicker. Thanks for reading and please review if you feel you have the time! Oh, and this is the first chapter containing both Lowell and Syrenne's POVs. Hope you like it!**

_**Lowell**_

Lowell rubbed tiredly at his eyes as he headed upstairs to the room he'd been sharing with the other guys. _Dying really takes it out of you,_ he thought dryly to himself. Even before that had happened, he'd been through enough to leave him exhausted; reptids, golems and the Gurak, to name a few. Although the wound it had left was healed completely now, the spot where the sword had gone through his chest felt as though it were on fire, and there was a dull ache in his muscles; just climbing the stairs was an effort in itself. Lowell wondered suddenly whether this weakness he was feeling would be a permanent thing, or whether he would eventually get over it. He sincerely hoped it was the latter; Syrenne would have a field day taunting him about it otherwise.

_Syrenne..._ He still found it hard to believe she'd actually apologised to him. They bickered and fought all the time, but not once had Syrenne been the one to admit she'd gone too far. Lowell had always backed down graciously (though sometimes he was actually the one in the wrong) and found ways to coax a laugh out of her, or teased her until they were trading mock insults over something else entirely, so that she'd forget whatever it was they had been arguing over in the first place. Apologies from Syrenne were as rare as long conversations with Yurick. Syrenne never apologised for who she was or the things she said, and that was just one of the things Lowell admired about her.

Still, it had been nice to know that she felt bad about the way she'd snapped at him earlier, Lowell reflected as he pushed open the door to his room. He didn't want to think that she might be angry at him for saving her.

As he stepped inside, he saw Yurick standing near the window. The mage was standing with his arms crossed, looking deep in thought; though Yurick rarely had any other expression these days. He looked up as Lowell entered the room and gave him a brief smile, though it faded from his face quickly.

"Hey," Lowell greeted him with a nod. "I didn't expect to see you up here; I thought you were still downstairs with the others."

Yurick shook his head. "It's too crowded down there," he answered shortly.

"I can leave, if you'd prefer to be alone," Lowell replied, but Yurick shook his head again.

"No, it's fine. I was just leaving anyway; I only came up here to pick up my things." When Lowell frowned, Yurick continued. "Zael offered me his old room at the castle, now that he'll be sharing with Calista. I was thinking of taking him up on the offer." He glanced down at the bed that had once been Dagran's. "There are too many memories in this place."

Lowell sighed, closing the door behind him as he walked further into the room and came to stand beside Dagran's bed too, gazing down at it. "Yeah," he answered quietly. "I know what you mean."

There was a pause as both men stood in silence, and then Yurick spoke up. "I still can't believe he's really gone... I keep thinking he's going to walk through the door at any minute."

"And yell at us for leaving all our stuff in a mess," Lowell grinned, and even Yurick had to smile. But neither of them could keep it up for long, and Lowell searched for something to say to break the silence again. But before he could think of anything Yurick was speaking again.

"I just... I don't _understand_ it," he said, frustration in his tone. "Not any of it. Dagran was supposed to be our friend; our mentor. How could he just... _use _us all that way; how could he turn his back on us all for power?"

Lowell sighed again, taking a seat on his own bed. "Power's a very attractive thing, mate. I've seen it turn many a great man into a monster. Dagran's no different; it blinded him. Made him forget what was really important."

Yurick looked down at the floor, his face conflicted. "I want to hate him. I wish I could. But... but if it wasn't for Dagran, the truth is... I don't know where I'd be right now. Probably on the streets, scrounging for food again. Dagran convinced me that I was more than just some orphaned kid with no future. He taught me that I was _someone_. Someone with a life worth living."

"I remember," Lowell nodded, thinking back to when they had first come across the young fire mage. With the exception of Mirania, Yurick had been the newest member of their group. He had only been with them for a year, though sometimes it seemed like they'd all been together for a lifetime. At first, and for many years, it had just been Dagran and Zael. Syrenne had joined them about four years ago, and Lowell about a year after that. Then it had been Yurick, and Mirania followed about three months later. "You were living on the streets, trying to earn money by performing fire tricks."

"I'd never even considered working as a mercenary," Yurick added. "I didn't think I needed anyone; I'd relied on myself for so long that working with others just seemed like a hindrance. But Dagran promised he'd show me a better life... and he did." Yurick looked up at Lowell for a moment. "If I hadn't gone with him... I'd never have met any of you. I'd never have found out what happened to my father; I'd never have faced my fears... I probably never would have been anything more than that orphaned kid with no future. I owe Dagran everything... but I still can't forgive what he's done."

"I don't think any of us can ever forgive him," Lowell said after a moment. "But I think it's more important to remember the good things he did, not the bad."

Yurick considered that briefly. "Maybe you're right," he shrugged. "But... it's going to take some time." He leant down to pick up the bags next to his bed that contained his belongings and then straightened again. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lowell."

Lowell nodded. "Aye. Hopefully we'll all feel a bit better in the morning, eh?" He gave Yurick a small smile, and Yurick returned it.

"Hopefully. See you then. Oh, and Lowell... it's good to have you back." Yurick inclined his head, and Lowell smiled before watching the other man leave the room. What had he been thinking earlier, about long conversations with Yurick being a rarity?

With a final sigh, Lowell closed the door behind him and looked around the room.

"Guess it's just me now then," he murmured.

* * *

_**Syrenne**_

"_Couldn't let... any harm come... to a beautiful girl like you..." _

"_Lowell! Lowell please; no!"_

Syrenne bolted upright, her heart thumping like a drum in her chest. It was a moment before she remembered she was in bed; her entire body was trembling and her skin was ice-cold, though her blankets were wrapped tight around her. She'd spent the entire evening fearing going to sleep; she'd known that as soon as she did, the nightmare of what had happened that day would be replayed in her mind, no matter how much alcohol she drank to try and block it out. Passing a shaking hand over her eyes, she took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. The nightmare had almost been worse than the real thing—almost.

Nothing would ever come close to affecting her in the way that Lowell's death had. It was as though every part of her body had turned to ice; she hadn't been able to feel anything but numbness spreading through her like poison. All she had been able to think was: _that sword was meant for me. Not him. Please; god, not him._

Syrenne had always known she'd die a warrior's death. She hardly ever got sick, and it was fairly unlikely for people in her line of work to reach old age. Dying on the battlefield, fighting for every last breath, was how she'd wanted things to end. She wasn't afraid of death; at least, not for herself. Death was just what happened to you one day when you finally came up against that one person who was a better fighter than you were. It was going to happen to her eventually, so why be fearful of it?

When she'd heard Lowell's warning shout and turned to see Zesha's sword hurtling towards her, everything had seemed to happen in slow motion. The second or two that it took to reach her seemed more like an hour. In that never-ending second, Syrenne had made her peace with the fact that she was about to die. She was sorry, of course, that it would mean leaving her friends; the people that meant most to her in this world: Zael, all valiant and heroic, who had grown up in front of her when she wasn't looking; sweet and other-worldly Mirania, the closest thing Syrenne had to a sister; Yurick, stubborn and young but brave and loyal, and gentle-hearted Calista, who had not been with them long but was just as important as the others. And Lowell... _Lowell..._

When she realised that the sword had not hit her, she was momentarily bewildered. It had been heading straight for her; there had been no way of her avoiding it or blocking it. She should be dead, instead of staring blankly at the spot on her body where it should have struck her. Why wasn't she dead?

It had been the pained, choking noise, in a voice she knew so well, that had broken her out of her shock. She had blinked, and then had suddenly seen the reason she was still alive. Lowell, stumbling in front of her, with the sword buried deep in his chest.

She had screamed then, unable to do anything more than fall on her knees at his side and scream his name, tears streaming down her cheeks. _That sword was meant for me._

_Couldn't let... any harm come... to a beautiful girl like you..._

Nobody had ever called her beautiful. Men desired her, of course; Syrenne was perfectly aware of that. But they were also intimidated by her, and though she might encourage their flirtatious comments every now and again, they knew not to go too far or they might regret it. Lowell was the only case where she'd allowed herself to break that rule, on multiple occasions. Usually it had been fuelled by a particularly hard-fought battle, when her blood was racing and her adrenaline was high. Then she'd drag Lowell away from the others on the pretext of 'going for a wander', only to pull him into the nearest alley and kiss him with a passion until they were both breathless and dizzy. Not that he'd complain, of course. Their kisses had always been passionate and desperate, but both Lowell and Syrenne had been wary of going any further. Going beyond kissing meant that things might get serious between the two of them, and that was terrifying for both of them. No; it was better this way.

But then Lowell had taken a sword to the chest for her, and called her beautiful. He'd _died_ for her. And that had changed everything. Suddenly, Syrenne had known that her fate would forever be tied to his from that day on. If he died, it would kill her, too. Now that he had taken root in her life, she didn't know how it would be possible to live without him.

Going on to fight Zangurak, and then Dagran, and having to leave Lowell behind, had been agonising to the point of nearly killing her there and then. But if there was one thing she did before she died, it would be burying her sword hilt-deep in the demon that had been responsible for taking Lowell from her. When Zangurak had breathed his last, she had expected to feel relief, but there was still only numbness. With Dagran, there had been some sadness for the mentor and friend she had lost, but mostly anger and hurt. So much hurt...

Afterwards, she'd crouched protectively over Lowell's body as her friends implored her to leave. How could they ask her to go? Didn't they understand? She was going nowhere without Lowell. Nothing mattered anymore; if she was killed trying to get him out of here, then so be it. If she got him out and was still alive at the end of it, then she would be able to give him the burial he deserved, but her life would be over all the same. So why were they all yelling at her to move, when she no longer needed to care about her own safety?

That was when she'd seen it; a strange, red light spreading from Lowell's body, similar to the light of Zael's gathering power. She'd been enraged at first; was this another sorcerer's trick? Did they think they could take his life _and _his body away from her?! But then... then he was breathing, and moving, and she could do nothing but stare, hardly daring to believe her own eyes, as he got unsteadily to his feet and stood before her, joking even now as though nothing had happened. It had only taken another moment for her mind to process the fact that he was here, alive and unharmed in front of her, before she had thrown her arms around him and sobbed with relief into his chest.

Syrenne glanced over to Mirania's bed. The mage was fast asleep, as Syrenne had expected her to be. Mirania was a heavy sleeper; Syrenne had always envied the way she could seemingly fall asleep anywhere, at any time, and yet wake up and be instantly alert if she was needed. Knowing sleep was something that wouldn't come easily tonight, Syrenne quietly slipped out of bed and pulled the a blanket off the bed to drape it around her shoulders, tiptoeing to the door and stepping outside, closing it behind her. Then she crossed over to the door of the boys' room, listening for any movement inside. She heard none, so she gently eased the door open, grateful that it didn't creak as she did so, and moved into the room.

She'd expected to see two empty beds; one had been Dagran's, of course, and the other's would be Zael's, now he would be staying at the castle permanently with Calista. But when Syrenne saw that Yurick's bed was empty too, she frowned. It was unlike him to go wandering off in the middle of the night, so had he chosen to sleep at the castle now too?

Her eyes were drawn to the one remaining occupied bed in the room. Lowell was as carefree in sleep as he was awake: arms and legs stretched in all directions with the blankets tangled around him. He breathed deeply and evenly, a peaceful look on his face with just a hint of the usual smirk playing on his lips, even in unconsciousness. As she stood looking over him, Syrenne felt a flash of annoyance run through her; how was it that he could be this calm and serene, after everything that had happened? Why did she get plagued with nightmares and insomnia, yet he could sleep like a baby?

As fast as it had happened, the feeling of annoyance melted away. _He must be freezing,_ she thought vaguely to herself. She reached down and found the corner of his blanket, pulling it gently and trying not to wake him so she could pull it back over him again, but he must have felt her tugging at it and opened his eyes slowly, sleepily adjusting to consciousness as he realised she was there.

"Syrenne?" he murmured drowsily, a frown on his face. She stared down at him, uncertain suddenly. They said nothing for a moment, silently asking questions of each other that neither of them wished to voice. Then Lowell slowly lifted the blankets and held them away from the bed in an unspoken invitation.

Syrenne instantly moved to slide into the space he had created. It was a single bed, but thankfully a large one, so there was just enough room for the both of them if they stayed close together. Syrenne pressed close to him, needing the intimacy, and Lowell wrapped his arms around her tightly. She could see the inquiring look in his eyes as he gazed down at her, but she was surprised when he was the first to break the silence.

"Syrenne—" he began again, but she raised a finger and placed it firmly over his mouth. Then she replaced her finger with her own lips, adjusting slightly so she could kiss him. The kiss started slow and sweet, but soon grew in intensity until she was breathing heavily. It seemed as though she couldn't get enough of him, as though he would dissolve into dust beside her if she didn't cling to him tightly enough. Lowell seemed to have the same fear, judging by the way he held her to him and kissed her back with the same fiery need.

It was Lowell who pulled back first, but only enough to speak, his breathing ragged and his voice husky. "Maybe we shouldn't—"

"Lowell, shut _up."_

"...Right."

That was all she allowed him to say before she was kissing him again, her hands roaming over his skin, enjoying the way his muscles felt under her fingers; the way he trembled when her fingers passed over a sensitive spot; the way his hair seemed to be made for her hands to brush through it. But then all of a sudden she couldn't concentrate anymore as Lowell's own hands smoothed over her thighs, tickling just behind her knees and going right down to her ankles before moving all the way up to her hips again. She arched into him and let out a soft moan at the tingling sensation running up and down her spine, and Lowell answered with a throaty murmur of approval. His kisses travelled down from her lips to her neck and shoulders as his hands travelled up to her stomach. She let out a gasp as he caressed every inch of her skin, his lips passing over any areas his fingers missed.

How neither of them fell out of the bed that night, she would never know. But that hadn't mattered at the time; all that had mattered was the aching need inside of her for everything that was Lowell; for everything she hadn't known she needed until he was almost ripped away from her forever.

And yet, the question in the back of her mind still taunted her, more prevalent than ever now...

_What happens now?_


End file.
